Spinning and Stopping
by blueandblack
Summary: Sam/Emily/Leah. Set post-Eclipse and ignores Breaking Dawn.
1. Chapter 1

Sam stopped phasing when his third child was born.

Letting go was difficult. The wolf had opened up another world for him, one where he was a leader, a warrior, a protector, a man with a higher purpose. Over the years it had become a part of him in ways he did not fully understand himself.

So letting go was difficult. But it would have been infinitely more difficult to continue living with Emily's anxiety. In fact, he was fairly sure that that would have been impossible for him to bear.

She never asked him to stop, never even consciously dropped hints… Except maybe that one time last Christmas when she knitted him a sweater, pure wool, thick, luxurious, then laughed, rolled her eyes when he hugged her, mumbled "Yeah, cos you really need a sweater to keep you warm."

Emily was not one to make demands, even her requests were well-chosen and few and far between. She didn't ask Sam to stop phasing, but she _hoped_ he would, she hoped it desperately, daily.

She never told him but he knew. She was his wife after all. By now he knew her so well that he could see most of her thoughts played out on her half-perfect face, and for the past few months she had been thinking _God what if he never wants to stop, what if he just keeps on living and living..._

When Sam cradled his newborn son in his arms, smiled and told Emily he was going to age with them, be a real family, the five of them together for the rest of their lives, she smiled back wearily, her hair still plastered to her cheeks with a film of sweat, tried not to look too relieved.

--

Less than a week of domestic bliss. That was all.

By the time Sam cooled down enough that he started wearing a shirt around the house, he knew something wasn't right.

It was as though his balance was off. He would be walking down a corridor and then all of a sudden find himself lost and reeling, grabbing onto the doorframe to keep from falling.

It reminded him faintly of a rush he and his cousins had chased when they were kids. They would spin around and around, then stop abruptly and laugh while the world kept racing without them. It was like that, except a lot less pleasant, accompanied as it was by fist-clenching nausea, beads of overheated sweat at his brow and a nagging thought in the back of his mind, like there was something he'd forgotten, somewhere he was supposed to be.

He was the first of the pack to stop phasing, so there was no way of knowing what kind of an effect it would have on his body. The records Harry had left behind were of little help on the subject and so Sam attempted to take the strange episodes in his now unsteady and unfamiliar stride, attribute them to the rapid loss of his heightened senses, super strength and speed, to the sudden need for his body and mind to find a new equilibrium.

After a few more days the dizziness lessened, the ground stayed reasonably solid beneath him, he kept his breakfast down… but the _feeling_ didn't go away. And he quickly decided that the feeling was the worst part.

_Something I've forgotten, somewhere I'm supposed to be._

--

Over the next few weeks Sam found himself taut and irritable, too often angry like he had been in the very beginning while the wolf had been taking hold, like he hadn't been in so very long.

It was ironic that while he had been phasing he had always been able to rely on a core of peace, a sense that however out of control a situation might be, his body, his mind, _his heart_ would keep it together.

Now he was lost, reeling and pretty pissed off that apparently he didn't get to keep the intense calm he had worked so hard to cultivate in order to tame the beast inside him.

_That was mine. That wasn't the wolf's. That was fucking _mine.

--

He'd never really liked his job. He wasn't sure how you could really _like_ working in a small-town hardware store, even if you were this close to becoming a partner in the business.

Sam had never enjoyed working at Dicksons, but still… He was pretty sure he hadn't hated it before.

Now he found himself in a foul mood every evening when he came home from work, bitching about his boss, who was actually a pretty cool guy, not to mention his ticket to a goldmine. He was muttering things under his breath, kicking doors shut, wanting to scream at the baby when it cried.

Emily noticed the change in him, tried not to wonder how much longer it was going to take for him to get back to being _Sam._

She had assumed there would be a period of transition when he stopped phasing, but she hadn't been quite prepared for him to be so...

She thought maybe it was partly down to the stress of having a newborn in the house, hushed the voice inside that reminded her how easy and full of smiles he'd been with the first two, got her mom to take the kids on Friday so they could have some peace and quiet together.

--

She heard the door slam shut, spread gloss over her lips and hurried into the living room.

Sam smiled mid-yawn, kissed her cheek. "Hey."

Emily smiled back, maybe a little too brightly. "Hey! How was your day?"

He shrugged, muttered "Yeah okay, I guess," as he slumped down on the couch, turned on the TV. He kept the volume down low, so it just buzzed incoherently at him. It was sort of soothing that way, like it toned in nicely with the distant mess of his mind.

Emily paused for a moment, eyes flickering from the back of his head to _I Love Lucy._ Then she went back into the kitchen to fetch the sandwich she'd made for him and headed back to the couch with it, nestled herself in beside her husband just like always and held the plate under his nose.

"There's avocado in it," she said with a knowing smile. "And extra mayo."

Sam glanced at the sandwich and somehow he felt threatened by it.

_I'm threatened by inanimate objects now. Tasty, nutritious inanimate objects prepared by my lovely wife. _

He rubbed at his temple, like his mood was a just headache, something asprin could take care of, and maybe that was a good idea, asprin, yeah, because maybe it really was just a headache, maybe he was fine and it was just a headache. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate, but physical and emotional were impossible to disentangle these days.

Finally he opened his eyes again, said "Thanks Em, it looks great," then took the plate from her and set it down on the coffee table. "I'll eat it later, I'm not too hungry right now."

Emily's brow furrowed. She smoothed it quickly.

_Keep it light, light, light._

"Wow, the change is really messing with your appetite, huh?" She chuckled, nudged Sam gently. "Oh well, I guess that means less work for me from now on."

His laugh was short and strained and before Emily could stop herself she asked him if he was okay.

He nodded, mumbled "yeah, just tired," turned the volume on the TV up a little, flicked the channels aimlessly.

Emily bit her lip, studied his face. He knew she was watching him, knew she was trying to _understand_ him and suddenly it irritated the hell out of him, even if he knew it really shouldn't have. She was entitled to be concerned, more than entitled. It was nice really, it should have been nice.

_Why isn't it nice? _

He kept channel surfing, cleared his throat a couple of times, and after a few moments Emily smiled to herself and seemed to relax, like she'd convinced herself he really was just tired and everything would be alright. She shifted, snuggled in closer to him and he instinctively slung his arm over her shoulder.

"Did you notice how quiet it is?" Emily asked. She fiddled with a button his shirt, whispered sweet-suggestive into his neck "The kids are at mom's place tonight."

Sam just nodded tightly, felt his hand twitch at her arm, forced out "Well it's nice of her watch them for us."

They sat like that for a few minutes and Emily could feel the seconds ticking by while she tugged lightly at his button and he politely ignored it.

Finally she pulled back a little and then she was trying to read his face again. "Sam, baby, are you sure you're alright, because you're - "

Sam interrupted her, voice low, just the tiniest bit clipped. "I'm fine, okay? Jesus, I just don't want to cuddle right now, is that a crime?"

Emily blinked, stood up and stumbled away, turned her face to the side like she was hiding, like she was shielding herself with her scars.

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean - "

She shook her head quickly, and her next words were muffled under her hair and hands, but he heard them, he heard them loud and clear in his own mind. "It's not that."

_It's not that._

Emily didn't demand. She rarely even requested, most of the time a suggestion was all she would venture.

Whatever she did ask of Sam, he always gave willingly, unconditionally.

He had never turned her away, never.

He had never wanted to, no matter what the circumstances.

He swallowed and it felt like he was swallowing the earth whole.

_Lost and reeling, something I've forgotten, supposed to be, supposed to be, and grabbing onto the doorframe, trying to find a new equilibrium because the world is racing without me and I'm falling, I'm falling all over again because fucking gravity moved, because..._

In that moment Sam knew what had happened to him. He knew why his peace had been stolen away with the wolf.

Sam knew, Emily knew. It was suddenly blindingly obvious, like somebody struck a match to a cloud of gas that had been lingering all along.

It was gone. The imprinting was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Emily, Em, Em, are you okay? I'm sorry, Em, please, Emily, I'm so sorry."

This was eerily like the very beginning, when he'd been angry and confused because suddenly he couldn't think of anything but _her. _

He'd hurt Emily then, ripped at her lovely face and come back to a bloody mess, a cover-up, and a strange, incongruous peace, because he knew who he was now, he was hers, only hers, always, that was the only way to stay standing, the only way to keep the world turning like it should…

She wasn't bleeding now, just crying, sobbing rough and wild, like somebody had just died.

The sight of it ached, not the way it would have before but still…

Sam gathered her up in his arms, well, he _tried_ to gather her up, it wasn't as easy as it used to be. He ended up on the floor with her, face buried in her hair, arms and legs both wrapped tight around her, whispered "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry, it's okay, it doesn't matter, it's okay, I love you, Emily, I'm sorry…"

When she was finally able to get a few words out Emily stuttered "N- not your f- fault, Sam. I just…"

She breathed unevenly, with a high wheezing sound like a bow on tight, thin strings.

"I just don't know w- why they would t- take it away. I don't… They m- make you… and because…"

She gave up. The effort to speak was too much, and it didn't matter because Sam knew what she meant.

_Why would they make me love her, make me need to make her happy, live for her, live with her, and when I make that choice, the only choice I _can _make, they take it all away. What kind of sick, fucking joke is that? _

Sam's blood ran cold at the thought that this was what was in store for all his brothers, all the ones who had imprinted, who would want to stop phasing someday to live a real life with the girl they...

And then, half a second later and with the same hideous violence he realized that it might not be this way for them, because they hadn't lived what he had lived, _loved what he had loved_, they hadn't burst madly through hearts to get to their imprint, and maybe that was the catch, maybe this was such a fucking mess for him because…

His mind was full of her. It had been full of her from the first stumble and gasp, he'd just been hiding, cringing, covering his ears, eyes closed, all that.

_Leah. _

Beautiful, funny, fierce Leah, with her smooth legs, the way they shone under the moon and the way she watched him watching them, watching her, naked on the sand with a bold smirk, Leah, Leah, she said _Hey you know we could get arrested for this_ and he remembers grinning, mouth parched for her, whispering _It'd be worth it, you're so fucking gorgeous, I can't take it_ and of course, Leah, Leah, she threw her arms back over her head and _stretched…_

That was the incoherent buzzing. Only it wasn't buzzing anymore. It was screaming over the TV, over the rush of blood in his ears, over Emily's sobs, over the rooftops of this suddenly too-small town, the treetops of the wide, dark woods around it.

He peeled himself away from Emily, slid along the floor a little before he stood up.

Emily couldn't look up, she couldn't risk it. She stayed in her hiding place, cloaked with long hair, masked by thick-rippled skin.

Sam spoke as evenly as he could.

"I have to go. I have to fix this. _I love you._ I'll be back."

--

Sam stood at the edge of the forest whimpering like a small child. He wanted to rip his clothes off, howl and scratch at the ground.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't phase.

--

Leah stamped her cigarette into the dirt, frowned at the familiar form moving toward her.

"Sam?" she called out.

He didn't answer, just kept running.

_Slow like a real boy,_ she thought with a little smirk.

It faded when she saw him in the light. He was a crying.

That in itself would have been enough to panic Leah, because Sam never cried, never ever, but then he was reaching for her, spitting out _Please, God, please,_ with his sobs.

Her eyes widened when he grabbed her, clinging like a helpless thing, and really, he wasn't phasing anymore, but she never thought she'd see him weak like this, never ever.

Leah's heart started to race, the hairs at the back of her neck stood up.

"What is it Sam? Sam _Jesus,_ what happened? Talk to me! Is it Emily? The kids? _What happened?_"

He looked up at her, into those eyes he hadn't dared look into for so long, not fully, directly, absolutely, not like he was looking into them now.

Suddenly Sam's hands were clutching at her face, and he was whispering low and frantic "_We_ happened. We happened, Lee-Lee, you and me, _we_ happened."

Leah flinched once at _Lee-Lee_, then again with _you-and-me._

She tried for a wry smile, but she was pretty sure it came off as a frightened grimace. "Yeah, we happened. Like, nine and a half years ago." She pushed at him, scrambled free easily. "Sam, what is going - "

His words came out like a moan. "I feel it like it was yesterday."

Leah shook her head, her stomach coiled tight. "Feel _what?_"

Sam just stared at her, breathing fast and light, a fire-brightness in his eyes.

Leah stared back for a few long seconds, then closed her eyes, tried to swallow the shocks that ripped through her body as she overlayed her sentence with his.

_We happened, nine and half years, I feel it, like yesterday._

She opened her eyes again and he was a little blurry. "Because you stopped phasing… the imprinting…"

Sam nodded and for the briefest moment all Leah wanted to do was throw herself into his arms, cry happy tears and squeal _You're back! Holy shit, you're_ back!

She kept still while her joy muddied and cracked, quickly, cruelly.

Finally she just said "This is fucked up," in a low monotone.

Sam didn't say anything to that, just made a heavy groaning sound that fell into silence.

Silence, that was all there was for him when Leah's eyes snapped to her front door. She spoke quickly, too easily, decided with the same ridiculous calm that she was probably in shock or something. "John's inside. The shower just stopped running. You should go home, Sam."

"John?" Sam asked, rubbing at his reddened eyes.

She nodded slowly, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, John. My boyfriend of four months who came to Jared and Kim's wedding and spent an hour talking with you about wrenches or some shit. Oh and then you met up for drinks a week later and Emily had to come pick you up because you were both wasted. That guy."

Sam nodded. Her slick words were like headlights and he was sort of dazed. "Right, sorry. I just… can't think."

"I don't… It doesn't matter, just…" Leah opened the door, muttered "I need you to go home, now" as she stepped inside.

--

_You need me to go home, well fuck you, FUCK YOU. _

Sam panted like he had actually screamed it.

He started running back toward the woods.

It had only been, what, two weeks? That couldn't be all. That couldn't be all it took to kill the wolf, that thing was _strong_, and now he was supposed to believe it had shrivelled up, up and away in _two fucking weeks? _

No way. He wasn't buying it.

And he wasn't going home, not yet. He wasn't going home until he could tell Emily he'd fixed this.

--

Leah sent John home.

_Go home Sam, go home John._

She told him she had a headache and it was true. Werewolves generally didn't succumb to such ailments, but she was pretty sure she had a headache right now, because this was all just far, far too much for her brain to handle.

_He's back. My Sam. The real one. He's back._

She wobbled over those words, let herself fall to the floor, rested her head on the couch.

She was crying.

_He's back and he's scared and it hurts him and it hurts me because I can't…_

Crying, sobbing, heaving, spluttering, coughing and cursing.

_Jesus, Emily, how does this… and the kids… I can't… He's back and I can't…_

She smelled him before he knocked. And she heard him before she smelled him, he wasn't so stealthy anymore.

The door opened and she saw her agony reflected before her, shook her head just before he fell into her arms, his mouth finding hers easily like you drive to a job you've had for twenty years, like you wash your hands, like you brush your teeth before bed, walk, sleep, swallow, _breathe._

Leah's heart pounded _I can't_ into _Sam, please_ and she was kissing him, shuddering at the way his chest pressed eagerly into hers, the way he grabbed at her thigh, gasped hungrily at her neck like he was trying to breathe her into him.

Leah was kissing Sam for the first time in nearly a decade and her tongue was hot against his, this time _she_ burned, she burned he melted at her touch.

It was over too quickly, not soon enough.

"I couldn't do it," Sam choked out. "I've tried and tried. I can't phase. I can't fix this, Lee-Lee."

"Shh," Leah's head throbbed and reeled, but she pulled him with her easily, she was so much stronger than him now.

They ended up on the couch and she was cradling him to her body, stroking his hair, telling him it would be okay, and Sam wanted to tell her to stop, shut up, get away from him, because this was like some sick coda to his scene with Emily and it wasn't right _but it was_ because this was the thing he'd forgotten, this was where he was _supposed to be._

He pulled himself closer to her, rested his head in the crook of her neck while she spoke to soothe.

"You can fix this, Sam. Not with phasing, but you can work it out. You can be strong and… you can get through it. They need you, just keep telling yourself that and you'll - "

"You needed me," he whispered hoarsely.

She shook her head, tears dripping down her cheeks in protest. "Not like that, not like a child needs its father. It's different. It's stronger, you'll be able to - "

"Leah, you don't understand. It's not that I don't… I love Emily. She's… And the kids… it's not that I…" He struggled to express what he was still struggling to understand, pulled himself up so he could see her, so she could tell him if he was getting it right. He needed to _get this right. _

"Leah, I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you like I never stopped, because I never _did_ stop, I never even worked out what I felt, what I left behind, I just… It didn't seem…" He stared into her eyes, and memories danced in his, battered scraps lifted by her breath and his together…

"I never stopped, Leah. I just forgot and I remember now, and it's like…" He leaned forward, slid his hands into her hair and let his eyes slip closed. "It's like waking up."


	3. Chapter 3

Emily ate the sandwich. It was three in the morning and she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. She was hungry, so she ate the sandwich in the dark, waited for Sam to never come back.

--

When Sam opened his eyes a bleary sunlight stung viciously at them.

He blinked gingerly, thought _Since when is it so damn hot in Washington this time of year?_

And then it came back to him, like crushed ice crumbling and slushing into the sticky mess in the bottom of a glass.

Leah's arms were around him, her soft, steady breath tickled his neck.

He should have been horrified. He would have been horrified before… He _was_ horrified. But he would have been more horrified if he wasn't piecing together the night before and knowing that nothing happened, that they had just talked and cried and slept. And he would have been more horrified – _no, less horrified_ - if he hadn't been so happy to be exactly where he was.

Happy, horrified…

He also felt like shit. He'd never had occasion to cry like he had last night and so he hadn't realized you could sob your way into what was basically a hangover.

_That's what this is. A happy, horrified hangover. _

Sam turned his head slowly, and when his cheek brushed against Leah's lips she sighed at his skin and his heart threatened to swell out of his chest.

His shoulders twisted under her arms and she sighed again as her eyes fluttered open. She screwed up her face at the sunlight, squinted just like he had, because her eyes were raw and bloodshot too.

Sam turned around to face her fully, pressed his palm to her face and touched his nose briefly to hers, murmured "Hey."

Leah's lips curved into a lazy half-smile and she felt happy even though _God,_ had she been drinking last night or something because her head was -

She froze. "Sam? What the… Oh my God, what are we…"

She started to wriggle away from him, eyes bulging like she'd just seen a parade of pink elephants hurtling through the window. Sam laughed, and immediately felt guilty for _laughing_ at a time like this, grabbed her hand in his before she could fly off the bed and said "Settle down Lee-Lee, you were the perfect gentleman."

Leah paused, then breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh thank God. You're fully clothed."

Sam nodded, his gaze tripping quickly over her long, lean body, clad in pink pyjama shorts and a flimsy tank-top. He pressed his lips together to try to keep from commenting, but they broke open somewhere between her collarbone and the smooth dip of her breasts and he mumbled "You're not."

Leah rolled her eyes, sat up and folded her arms. "Consider yourself lucky, I usually wear a lot less than this to bed."

Sam felt like his limbs were creaking with pain, longing and all the fullness of things he'd never dreamed he'd feel again when he sat up beside her on the bed, whispered "I remember."

Leah held her breath high and tight. She wanted to end this, shut it down right now before it burned her alive, thought _He's not the one who's on fire anymore_ followed it up with _What does it matter who starts it, in the end we'll all burn. _

She wanted to get up, take a shower and hope he was gone by the time she got out. No, she wanted to _tell_ him to be gone by the time she came out because she couldn't stand him being near her, and she'd done her part, she'd held him and cried with him and now it was time for him to go home to his life and leave her to hers and -

Before Leah could stop herself she asked "What else do you remember?" and before she could regret it Sam was tangling his hands in her long black hair, edging close, dangerously close and and telling her.

"I remember…" He had started out deadly serious, his eyes glistening as they poured his soul into hers. But now he was ducking his head, grinning ruefully. "Oh I am going to sound like such a guy. I remember the night we snuck out, went down to the beach and got completely carried away. We made love in the sand…" His eyes were downcast and faraway, for a moment he was so far away from all of this, and Leah felt oddly jealous, because it was like he was right back there, right at that perfect moment in time when they had been together and happy, in love and full of the future… He was right there in those memories that had faded and creased and folded themselves away into dark, bruised corners of her mind _never to be touched_.

Finally Sam shook his head, grinned again. "And yeah anyway… I remember thinking, no, _knowing_, that you were the hottest girl on earth. Ever. Period."

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, light, warm and surprisingly chaste given what he had just been reminiscing about. Then he looked Leah in the eye, cocked his head and smiled a simple smile. "I remember how much I loved you in blue… like… sea-blue, greenish really. And then after I told you that you wore that shirt you had, like, at least three times a week."

Leah almost blushed, somehow that embarrassed her a lot more than the first thing he'd recalled. "I didn't think you…"

Sam shook his head. "Of course I noticed. I noticed everything about you."

Leah's heart flickered sweetly at that, and she felt herself slipping, falling too easily into the rhythm of this, this conversation, Sam and Leah, _you and me. _

She rolled her eyes to compensate, just barely stopped herself overdoing it hugely by snorting and saying _Yeah, you noticed the hell out of me right up until Emily came to town. _

Sam kept talking, like he either hadn't noticed her little gesture of contempt or he didn't buy it or he didn't care.

"And then there was that awful song I wrote for you, and we laughed about it and I passed it off as a joke." He grinned, eyes closed for a moment while the whole thing flooded back to him, "Except it wasn't a joke, it was supposed to be good. I spent hours on it and I meant every word…"

Leah smiled, she could help it, muttered a semi-melodic "Leeeeah, I feeeeear, you're the only thing I'll ever seeeeeah."

Sam chuckled like shallow breaths. "Yeah, that's the one. I really can't apologize enough for that shit."

Leah swallowed a nervous laugh. "I forgive you, I guess."

Sam pounced on that, she sort of knew he would. He took her hand in his, leaned in close. "Do you?" he asked, in a way that left no doubt as to what he was talking about.

Leah held his gaze, kept perfectly still, perfectly matter-of-fact, and just a tiny bit holier-than-thou, but hey she deserved the high ground, didn't she? "Yes." she said. "I forgave you a long time ago, Sam."

Sam blinked, looked down. "No, I don't mean like that… I…"

"You mean do I love you."

He flinched at the harsh delivery of that line, looked up at her then quickly away just as she said "Yes, I love you."

He squeezed her hand tight, brought his other hand to her cheek, kissed her mouth like that was an open invitation and maybe it sort of was, because she kissed him back, for a few delicious seconds.

Then she pulled away, extracted her hand from his, peeled the other from her cheek and said soberly "We can't do this."

Sam rubbed at his eyes, groaned. "I know but I just… I feel like… I feel like I _have_ to."

Leah's eyes widened and suddenly she was more angry than anything else. "Oh Jesus Sam, are you fucking kidding me? You _have_ to have me? It's not like you imprinted on me."

He started to stutter something back, then his head fell in his hands and Leah kept riding this new wave of emotion.

"You don't have an excuse this time, Sam. So you love me, what does that matter. It didn't matter before. It doesn't matter now. You have a… And where the fuck is Emily anyway? Did you just _leave_ her? All night? And now it's morning and you're what... You think you're gonna just _make out with me?_ What is _wrong_ with you? Is this like a regression thing? Do you think you're a teenager again?"

Sam stared at her for a moment and her words and her face spat acid at him.

_You're a monster, you're a fucking monster, Jesus Emily, I fucking left her sobbing on the floor, all night, Jesus what the hell is wrong with me? _

He stood up so abruptly and so gracelessly that he sort of _fell_ up, strode briskly to the door, turned and said "I have to go," bit his tongue to keep from adding _I have to fix this. I love you. I'll be back._

--

Emily sat. It was nine o'clock and if she didn't call her mom the kids would be home soon. She needed to call her mom, tell her to keep them, take them to the park, the movies, whatever, _ice cream ice cream ice cream, let's go. _

Emily needed to call her mom but the phone was too far, so she just sat, waited for Sam to never come back.

--

Sam arrived seconds after his mother-in-law, felt a sick pang at the warm smile she gave him while she got the baby out of the car seat, at the care-free squeals of his other two kids when they caught sight of him, rushing to throw their arms around his legs.

He had never felt so devastated in his life.

--

He stepped over the threshold, Sarah and Evan holding onto a hand each. Emily was sitting on the couch in the living room and she looked entirely confused for a moment when they walked in.

Then she stood up, smiled brightly and opened her arms. "Hey babies! Did grandma give you breakfast already?"

They hurried toward her, Evan babbling something about pancakes, Sarah saying Grandma didn't have any eggs, and then, when they were safely in her arms, Emily looked up at Sam, pulling all the brave pieces of herself into her chest.

He was smiling.

Sam was smiling, and when her mom came in, he thanked her for watching the kids, said she should stay for some breakfast, took little Adam in his arms, kissed his soft cheek.


End file.
